Damnation
by Violent Dance
Summary: AU, GrimmIchi: Kurosaki Ichigo never thought he’d be teamed-up with the biggest bastard he’s ever met... and in the most inappropriate situations.


Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of its characters, settings, etc.

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"Ichigo! Please look this way!"

Ichigo turned his head to where the voice came from and flashed a smile mechanically, something he had become accustomed to doing over the years. Bright white light blinded him momentarily and the smile that he tried – he really did – to look good and presentable ended up looking like something in between sour and bitter. His fans thought otherwise—if the screaming and shrieking that then began was any sign for that.

But the media simply loved him, didn't they?

"Ichigo! Here!"

Ichigo looked that way and smiled once again.

"Ichigo!"

"Ichigo!"

"Ichigo, here! Look here! Here!!"

"Ichigo!"

"PLEASE LOOK HEREEE, ICHIGOOOO!!"

And that was how he was almost killed in a stampede caused by malicious reporters and photographers trying to get him to talk further about his upcoming fashion show. His supposed bodyguards did nothing to stop such situation from happening. They didn't even bother to block the aforementioned malicious and forceful natives – who, to Ichigo's knowledge, were the ones called paparazzi – from tackling him quite literally.

Being a model for one of the biggest modeling agencies such as Gotei Thirteen really had benefits, paparazzi and full-forced stampedes aside. Staying in one of the V.I.P. rooms bestowed upon him had always sounded very appealing to his ears.

He sighed as he entered his room and slammed the door shut, earning an amused chuckle from his twin who comfortably sat on couch in his living room, looking maybe a bit too comfortable for Ichigo's tastes.

He frowned. "Visiting hours are over," he drawled thickly as he walked towards the couch, stopping just a few steps from it, "What're you doing here?" His (as if family connectivity was needed) brother decided to pay him a visit. Hichi rarely did that. More like, he never visited.

"Aww, is it wrong to visit yer five minute older bro? Come here an' gimme a hug!" Hichi stood up from the couch, that maniac grin plastered on his face, placed the can of coke he had been holding on the nearby oak table, and mocked a slow-motion run towards Ichigo with his arms wide open.

Ichigo felt his eyebrow twitch.

"Stop whatever the hell you're abou--"

Too late.

His brother had purposely dived at him, and Ichigo, who was apparently not water or any liquid substance, was brought down to the floor with a loud thump, a grinning Hichi on top of him.

The twin's grin widened as Ichigo squirmed beneath him, trying to free himself from his brother's grasp, "How's the weather today?"

"Lovely." A groan escaped the orange head's lips as he tried to push the exceedingly keen replica off himself, "Get off me, dammit."

A smirk escaped Hichi's lips. "Not unless you gimme what I want."

"Money?" Ichigo asked naively, knowing that his brother didn't need it. Who would need money if one worked in a prestigious agency that guaranteed you even more money after your death? (Retirement fund, anyone?)

Certainly not Hichi, he'd be damned with all that money. He would probably bring his money with him to hell (or wherever he was destined to be in--hell being the likelier option). As much as Ichigo hated to admit it, his brother always succeeded at earning money, worked in a bigger agency than his, and had most of the girls, even though a fair amount of female inhabitants drooled over them both.

"Go ahead and withdraw from my bank account. Here's my card--" Ichigo arched his body to get his wallet from his back pocket.

He moaned, and leaned near Ichigo's ear. "I love it when ya do that," he said in a hoarse voice.

Hichi didn't have the luxury of time to register what happened-- he felt sharp pain on his abdomen and before he knew it, his body was sent flying to the nearby sofa, hitting it with a loud thud. A scowling Ichigo stood before him, hands crossed on his chest.

From how it looked, it seemed that Ichigo had kicked him from underneath. "Fuck off!" Ichigo growled.

"I was just kiddin', man! Com'on, Ichi! Gimme some love!"

"Shut. Up. Don't come near me! I fucking swear, I'll hit you wi-- Don't come near me, dammit! Don't you-- Hichi!"

Then again, too late.

Hichi was already on him, pinning Ichigo's arms above his head using both his pale hands. He made himself comfortable on Ichigo's front, the smirk on his face just comfortable where it was and clearly had no plans on leaving.

"Yer so damn tense, acting like yer gonna get fuckin' raped…" Hichi smirked before he hesitantly got off Ichigo and sat near him with his legs crossed.

He brought a finger to his pale lips and looked up, thoughtful. He stayed that way for a moment before looking back at Ichigo, a smirk on his face.

"Maybe I'd ask some friends to come by an' we could--"

"Hichi!" Ichigo yelled, bringing his arms and legs up and sitting in an Indian position while glaring at him.

"Yeah, yeah!" Hichi waved a pale hand frantically, dismissing the subject, "Damn, yer so tense. Was just messin' with ya." Ichigo heard his twin mutter something like 'sucha kill joy' under his breath before Hichi stood up and made his way towards the couch. He jumped on it, landing feet first like a sly cat, and grabbed the can of coke he left on the oak table. He glanced at Ichigo, who was still on the floor with those orange brows furrowed and his thin lips skewed downwards--a perfect scowl.

"So," Ichigo started, not letting go of the subject, "Tell me why the hell you're here, gracing me with your unneeded presence, when you should be at Seireitei, doing a fashion show?" Irritation leaked Ichigo's voice as he stood up from his place and strode towards the couch. He sat on the neighboring sofa and waited for a reply from his twin, who mused at how short-tempered Ichigo was, the scowl still prominent on his features.

"That can wait," Hichi shrugged, but his expression soon turned serious, "I'm here for something important. 'Bout work."

"What about it?" Ichigo snorted, his scowl easing up, "They have to get their heads checked if they plan to fire you or somethin'."

"It ain't 'bout me."

Ichigo blinked. "What?" He pointed a finger at himself, the scowl on his face completely gone and replaced by confusion. "Me?"

Hichi grinned and nodded. "Someone's offered us somethin' and wants to talk it all out."

_Us?_

"What _us_?"

"I'm offering you something that might completely change your lives."

Ichigo saw his twin smirk at the corner of his eye before his head snapped towards the source of the voice. A short woman in her mid-twenties came out from the bathroom, wiping her hands dry with a towel. She had a baseball hat on her head which she wore backwards, a pink shirt with 'PUNK ROCK AIN'T DEAD' written in distorted, dirty- appearing letters, coffee colored cargo shorts that went just below her knees, yellow, high-cut Chuck Taylor shoes, and a black sling bag with silvery chains hanging from one end to the other.

Looks like someone got lost in her wardrobe.

"No need for dramatic lines, lady." Hichi snorted and took a sip of his drink, but the woman paid no attention to him. "Kuchiki Rukia," she drawled, bowing respectfully at Ichigo. Ichigo reciprocated the courtesy and bowed. When Ichigo was able to straighten up, he had to bow his head and bend his body back a little to look at Rukia's face. She was a petite woman.

Probably too petite for her age.

Ichigo realized he had spaced out when he saw Rukia looking blankly at him.

"Oh, sorry. Uhh…" Ichigo forgot what he was supposed to say, "I'm--"

"Yes, you're Ichigo, obviously. The orange-haired one," she said, her voice solely professional, "But if you wouldn't mind, I would like to know your real name."

Ichigo glanced at his twin, wary if he should reveal information to this... this woman. Hichi simply nodded, and Ichigo took that as a sign.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," It had been a long time since he said his complete name to a stranger. The modeling agency suggested that he keep his family name unknown, though it was pretty much useless. You don't get to see a family with an orange-haired son everyday (who claims his hair color was natural) and not know his name. "To add more impact," Ichigo remembered his useless stubby manager--whose name he didn't even remember--saying.

Ichigo noticed Rukia's change in expression. She whirled her small figure around and glared daggers at Hichi, both hands on her hips.

His twin chuckled. "Couldn't just trust you, ya know."

"I told you to tell me the truth."

"I did tell you the truth!" Hichi laughed.

They decided to chat and leave Ichigo behind. "The hell?" the orange-haired blurted out, annoyed that he was being shoved away like a used-up bloody tampon.

Rukia looked back at him, but not before glaring accusingly at Hichi. "Well, when I met your brother and asked for his name, he said it was Shirosaki Hichi," she said, stressing out the first two syllables of the said family name.

"That's one of the names he's adopted for… public use."

"Aye, aye!" Hichi laughed, a deep, throaty sound that echoed through the room, "Well, lady, name's Kurosaki Hichi, hmm?" He stood up and walked towards Rukia, slung an arm on her shoulder and smirked at her. He had to bend to be able to do that. "How 'bout ya be my new girl, eh? We could work on the terms, ya know…" He whispered near Rukia's ear before looking at her and winking.

Rukia just rolled her eyes, not buying any of the sweet words Hichi offered. She took Hichi's arm off her shoulder and glared at him. "No touching," she hissed, but in a snap she was back to her professional tenor, her eyes meeting Ichigo's, "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

It seemed that the little girl had some fierce blood coursing through her, after all.

She made her way towards the row of shelves in Ichigo's living room, eyes full of curiosity.

"I'm here for the sole purpose of…"

She looked through the picture frames on the shelves. Each of them had either Ichigo or Hichi in it, and she could only tell which one was which by their hair and skin color. Ichigo was the orange haired boy with sun kissed tan skin, while Hichi had silvery white hair with porcelain white skin. She mused on how different the two were even while they had so many similar features. She continued to look through the frames when one caught her attention. She took it and looked closely, analyzing the details. A dark outline came over her face as she smirked.

"…getting both of you in our modeling agency, whether you like it or not."

Ichigo's eyes widened, the word 'abduction' ran through his mind. Hichi only chuckled; amused at the force in the petite lady's voice. Rukia looked like she had a brilliant plan just waiting to be set into motion.

Truly, this was (once again) another manifestation of what Hichi's phenomenal visits could do to him—and it never ceased to amaze the hell out of Ichigo. Danger was probably just lurking somewhere, smirking at them.


End file.
